Anne felt the blood rush her cheeks in anger. Still, she held her tongue. “And whom may I tell her is calling?”
The woman’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Anne with unconcealed hostility. “Your job isn’t to ask me who I am. Your job is to go and get Beth immediately.”
Fisting her hands in her skirt, Anne narrowed her eyes. “I meant no disre—”
“I could have you whipped for your insolence.”
Anne’s mouth snapped shut and her fury flared like the sails on a ship. An image of Benjamin’s scars flashed in her mind, as well as the unfortunate souls on the docks. “You could certainly try.”
With a curse, the woman reached down beside her and lifted what appeared to be a walking stick. Anne took a step back, wishing for a moment that she had her pistol at her side. She’d taken it off while she was cleaning, and she missed the familiar weight against her hip. How was it possible that in just a few short days, she would come to appreciate the security it afforded her?
“You have the devil in you, girl, and are sorely in need of reverence! Come here!” The woman hit the walking stick on the side of the window and the driver jumped, his eyes widening. It was clear he recognized the sound.
A firm hand on Anne’s shoulder prevented her from retorting. Beth looked at the carriage, her lips thinned. “Go inside and wait for me. Alastair should be back soon with some news.”
Grinding her teeth, Anne turned and marched toward the kitchen, her back ramrod straight. Never before had she experienced so much animosity for people in such a short amount of time. First Lord Pelham and the slavers at the wharf, and now this woman. Patience, Teach’s former betrothed, had been ignorant and cruel, yes. It didn’t excuse her prejudice, but she’d grown up sheltered and spoiled. Here in the islands, people of color were everywhere. This woman’s contempt was palpable, rolling off her in waves. She made Drummond look almost tolerant.
Drawing deep breaths, Anne stepped inside the door and leaned against the wall, a swift, painful throbbing in her chest. She reached automatically for her pocket watch. Closing her eyes, she tried to listen as Beth spoke with the woman, but she could only make out a word or two of their conversation.
Beth’s voice was calm and even, the other was sharp and piercing. Even from a distance, Anne could feel the woman’s hatred. Treated poorly as a free person of color, Anne could only imagine what actual slaves had to endure.
A few minutes later, Beth returned to the kitchen, the sound of the carriage fading in the distance. Anne watched Beth closely, waiting, but the older woman said nothing as she moved toward the pantry and withdrew a burlap bag.
“Who was that woman?” Anne asked, anger making her voice sharp.
“That was Governor Webb’s wife.”
Anne’s stomach dropped. “Did she have any news of the Deliverance and her crew?”
Beth picked up a small spoon, measuring some of the green leaves from the bag. “No, that’s not why she came.”
Frustrated, Anne clenched her hands, the pocket watch cool against her hot palms. “What did she want?”
“Would you mind getting the mortar and pestle for me, please?”
Anne hesitated, but only briefly. Slipping her mother’s watch into her pocket, she marveled that Beth could remain so calm. Anne’s entire body was tense, the blood still pounding in her ears. On the way to the pantry, Anne passed the shelf where she’d placed her pistol while she cleaned the kitchen. Once she had done as Beth had asked, Anne retrieved it and slung the pouch over her shoulder, grateful for its familiar weight. She slipped the pistol free and unscrewed the barrel as Coyle had shown her. Perhaps it was time she kept it loaded.
Beth raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Anne bit her lip, aware that beneath her anger, there was a layer of fear. Growing up in Bristol, her half brother Henry had often bullied her, but she had learned how to fight back. She’d endured snide remarks and disgusted looks. This was the first time a complete stranger had ever physically threatened her, and Anne hated to admit that she was frightened. Not only for herself, but for others as well.
“That woman,” Anne said, unable to remain silent. “She’s evil.”
“There are many more like her.”
“It’s not right.”
“No, it’s not.”
Tears prickled the back of Anne’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly, refusing to let Webb’s wife have that much power over her. The prejudice Anne had endured in England had not prepared her for this level of hate.
“Come here,” Beth said.
Anne shook her head and looked away, toying with the weapon in her hands.
Beth’s fingers closed over Anne’s, and she removed the pistol. “Come here, child.” Before Anne could protest, Beth wrapped her in her arms.
The embrace reminded Anne of her mother, Jaqueline. Aside from Teach, Anne’s mother had been the only one to ever hold her. Anne had felt alone for so long. Unable to stop the flood of emotions, Anne leaned into Beth’s shoulder and sobbed.
Beth said nothing, she simply held Anne while weeks of frustration, fear, and uncertainty poured out of her. Eventually, Anne drew back and Beth handed her a kerchief to blow her nose.
“I’m sorry,” Anne whispered.
Beth smiled, her expression sad. “For what? For being human? There’s no need to apologize. You’re in a strange place and you’ve just seen your friend arrested. You’ve been through a lot. And are sure to endure much more before your journey’s through.”
Anne sniffed. “I saw a ship this morning. They were unloading slaves.”
Beth’s expression hardened. “There will always be people getting rich off the misery of others.”
“I want to do something, but I don’t know what,” Anne said, her stomach churning at the thought of the wealth at Drummond’s disposal. There was so much injustice in the world, and it seemed as if the wrong people were in possession of the power.
“We each do what we can with what we have. Alastair has helped escaped slaves move on. That’s why he keeps the tavern open. He doesn’t need the revenue from the Fox, but it’s someplace for people to come if they need help.”
“Can anything be done to help the slaves who are brought here? To get them away from people like the governor’s wife and Lord Pelham?”
Beth’s hands stilled. “There was a boy named David, who wasn’t much older than you. He tried once. He was one of the governor’s field hands who met Benjamin in the streets of Nassau. Benjamin told David about Alastair. David tried to escape, but Webb caught him before he could get to us. The governor gave him three chances to give himself up. But David refused. By the fourth time, Webb simply raised a musket and took aim. David didn’t survive the night.”
Anne swallowed, her throat tight.
Drawing a deep breath, Beth looked down at the table briefly before meeting Anne’s eyes. “A slave’s job is to stand, listen, and tremble. The minute we stop trembling, we become unmanageable.”
Anne found that her own hands were trembling. Reaching for the pistol, she caught herself and clenched her palms together. “Can nothing be done?”
“Alastair has tried, but the killing of a slave, or any colored person, is not treated as a crime, either by the courts or the community. Charges were never brought against Webb.”
“I hate how that woman made me feel.”
“You’ll always find people like her. People who must make you feel small in order to feel big. They’ll do everything in their power to keep you in the place they’ve assigned you, but remember, you always have a choice. You can choose to hate them back. Or you can choose to be better than they are,” Beth said, picking up the spoon once more to measure out some leaves.
“How you must hate working for her.”
“Mrs. Webb has enough hate in her for the rest of us. She makes no secret of the fact that she wishes to return to England. I pray every day that her wish will be granted. It would save me the trouble of making this poultice.”
“It’s a helpful remedy for boils.” The hint of a smile appeared on Beth’s lips. “Mrs. Webb doesn’t like people to know she visits me, which is why she comes in an unmarked carriage and only approaches from the back.”
“Surely the governor knows.”
“Most likely. But he never speaks of it with Alastair. I suppose she doesn’t want anyone to know. I only do it to try to keep the peace between Alastair and the governor. I’m not doing it to help her.”
Leaning over the table, Anne bent toward the bag, studying its contents. Reaching forward, she prepared to take a pinch, but Beth raised a hand in warning.
“Be careful. It’s black nightshade.”
Anne’s mother had often spoken of plants and vegetation from the islands. “I’ve heard nightshade is poisonous.”
“It can be if it’s swallowed.”
“Can you . . . see the boils?” Anne asked. Although she’d only had a brief glimpse of the woman, there hadn’t been any evidence of any unsightly sores. Anne couldn’t help her smile at the thought of Mrs. Webb covered in oozing cysts and ulcers.
“I wouldn’t know. When she comes, she waits in her carriage. I’m to be ready, hand the poultice through the window, and take the coins for payment. She surprised me today. I hadn’t expected her so soon after the last batch I made. But she’s the governor’s wife, and answers to no one. When she comes again, I don’t want you speaking with her.”
“Trust me, I have no desire to ever set eyes on that woman again.” Alastair had already warned Anne about Lord Pelham. And now she had to worry about Mrs. Webb. There seemed to be quite a few people on the island who posed a serious threat.
“It’s a wise person who knows when to stay silent, Anne. She has slaves at home who have no shield against her anger.”
Anne hadn’t thought of that. She’d wracked her brain to think of some sharp retort to put the woman in her place. She was indeed grateful Beth had come before she had fanned the flames of Mrs. Webb’s anger any further. Anne shuddered, hoping that the woman would not cause anyone harm because of Anne’s careless words.
Looking out the window, Anne wished Alastair would return with some news.
“Try not to worry about your friend. Alastair knows what he’s doing.”
“Does Alastair trust the governor?”
Beth gave a short laugh. “Trust is not quite the word I would use. Theirs is a unique relationship. Webb’s only been governor for a few months and I’ve met him only once. There’s some concern for his welfare. In the past few weeks, his health has declined.”
That wasn’t a sound endorsement. Especially not with Teach still in custody. “Will Webb allow Alastair to speak with Teach? To find out what happened?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. It’s difficult to tell how the governor will respond. It depends entirely on his mood and on his health. Some days he isn’t fit for visitors.”
Anne hoped fervently that the governor was in a good humor that day. His wife certainly hadn’t been. If only Anne had the money from her inheritance. Not only did she wish to find her family members, if any still lived, but she also wondered what it would take to free the slaves working for the Webbs.
The uncertainty of everything and her inability to act were driving her mad. Normally she had a plan for everything. All she knew now was that she had to find a way to get to Teach. He was so close. . . .
Anne glanced at the door leading to the tavern. It would open later that night. Perhaps that was what she needed. A mindless job that could provide her an escape from her thoughts.
Unexpectedly the door swung open, and Alastair filled the entryway. He was alone, looking drained. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t able to see the governor. He didn’t feel well enough to have any visitors.”
His voice crackled with frustration, but it was nothing compared to how Anne felt. “Were you able to find out what happened?”
“No, lass. Not yet. By the time I arrived, the crew was already locked up. Nobody was allowed to see them. Not even me.”
Anne didn’t miss the worried look Beth shot Alastair.
“I’ll go first thing in the morning. Perhaps a good night’s rest will clear the governor’s head. Make him more cooperative.”
“Is that man even fit to lead?” Anne cried, throwing her hands in the air. “What could that crew have possibly done to warrant their arrest? They were the ones who were attacked. I saw those ships close in with my own eyes.”
Beth placed her arm around Anne’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I know this must be difficult for you, seeing your friend like that. But you have to realize that it’s easier to get into a prison than to get out.”
That was precisely what Anne was afraid of. “There must be something I can do,” Anne said.
“Unfortunately not. I’m going to do my best to get your friend out of there. But it will take time.”
“Time?” Anne mumbled to herself. She had waited weeks aboard the horrendous Providence to be with Teach. See him again. Hold him again. Make sure he was okay. And now that he was so close, it seemed he was farther away than ever. “How much time?” she dared ask.
Alastair stayed silent, and Anne knew she got her answer.
CHAPTER 13
Teach
“Move over,” John muttered, his words unnaturally loud in the small, dark cell. The rats scurrying along the corridor stopped at the sound of his voice. Most of the crew was asleep, their deep snores reverberating off the walls.
“There’s no place for me to go,” Jack Thurston grumbled. “Cozy up to the captain if you need more space.”
“I’d rather he didn’t.” Drenched in sweat, Teach felt as if he’d entered the bowels of hell. No light penetrated the gloom and Teach couldn’t see the hand he held in front of his face.
Unaware of how many hours had passed since his conversation with the governor, it already felt like an eternity. Pushed tight against the cell bars, with John pressed to his side, Teach attempted to sit up, knowing sleep would be impossible. The stuffy air combined with the stench of unwashed bodies made the space unbearable. He should have simply agreed to captain Webb’s ship, but the request had caught him off guard. Nassau was full of sailors and sea captains. Why would the governor insist on Teach’s help? It didn’t make sense.
Shifting, Teach leaned against the bars, trying to give John more room. “I’m sorry about this,” Teach said.
“Don’t blame yourself, Captain. I’ve been in places much worse than this,” Jack said.
John gave a disbelieving snort. “When and where?”
“I was locked up in Madeira once. The place was crawling with all kinds of vermin. Maggots ate the flesh right off the soles of one man’s feet, clear down to the bone.”
“What a load of poppycock. When were you in Madeira?”
“It weren’t more than three summers ago, when you were still plucking up the courage to talk to the lasses. But no jail can hold me.”
“This one seems to be doing a fairly good job of it.” John’s smug words dissolved into a pained grunt. “You throw another elbow in my back and there won’t be enough of you for the maggots to feed on.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Enough. Both of you,” Teach said, running a weary hand over his face. His eyes were scratchy and dry and he was sorely in need of a drink, but as long as his two friends argued, rest eluded him. Jack was only five years older than John, but he often acted like it was ten.
For a moment, the three of them sat silently in the dark, listening to the deep breathing of their fellow sailors. Rats scurried in the darkness, and Teach closed his eyes as something brushed by his boot. He kicked out and was rewarded by the sound of an angry squeak as the rat scurried away.
John jumped. “If I ever see Peter again . . .”
“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Jack muttered. “As soon as I get out of here, I’m going to hunt him down.”
&nb
sp; “And just how do you intend to get out? Last time I looked, there were at least ten guards between us and freedom.”
Teach interrupted them before they could quarrel further. “Webb’s coming for me in the morning. I’ll get you out.”
“We shouldn’t even be here. Webb needs to go after the ships that attacked us,” John said, his voice rising. “Find those bastards and you’ll find the real criminals.”
“Right,” Jack chimed in. “If Webb was really doing his job, these cells would be filled with pirates, not us. We all know the islands are full of ’em.”
“I said I’ll get you out of here,” Teach said, wishing he could go back in time. Would he have stood up to Murrell? Yes. He would never regret that decision. But it still didn’t erase the guilt he felt at their current dilemma. “Now try to sleep. I don’t want you to wake the others. Let them have their peace.”
Neither John nor Jack responded. Teach closed his eyes, grateful that the majority of the crew already slept. Every one of them had remained loyal to Teach and refused to corroborate Peter’s story of mutiny, and for that Teach would always be grateful.
The men ranged in age from twelve to forty, and most of them came from coastal towns in England. Young Matthew had narrowly escaped the press-gang on a naval ship. He’d met twenty-two-year-old Lawrence outside a tavern in Whitby and together they’d made their way to Bristol, one of the busiest ports in England, searching for work. Thirty-year-old Hugh had promised to send everything he earned home to his wife and their three children. Walter was the oldest of the group and didn’t have anyone left in the world, and so he’d given some of his pay to Hugh.
Each seaman on board the Deliverance had a history of hardship and suffering. On long voyages, the comfort and safety of everyone depended entirely on the character of the crew, and although Richard Drummond had made a colossal mistake by choosing Murrell as captain, Teach had nothing but praise for the other seamen his father had hired.
John’s loud snore cut into Teach’s thoughts and Teach smiled, grateful to have his friend by his side.
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